A MAORI RAGE MEETING.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 445, 2 January 1909, Page 3

A MAORI RAGE MEETING.

For some time past there had been portentous signs of trouble for the Maori Christmas Day races at Orakei. Mysterious and contrary advertisements had assured bewildered racegoers that the race meeting would and would not take place. Intending patrons were definitely told that an eighteen penny fare would admit them to the course, and in the next advertisement they were informed that if they set foot on the course on Christmas Day they would be prosecuted as trespassers. An interesting account of the sequel is given in the Herald report of the races. When racegoers went to catch the ferry steamer to Orakei they were confronted by a remarkable notice which conveyed the information that the course had been ploughed up—by whom it was not stated. Notwithstanding this depressing manifesto, large numbers went out anticipating some fun. They were not altogether disappointed. The course had been ploughed up right enough. The situation was earnestly discussed by many Maoris; nobody seemed to be able to indicate the perpetrator of the fell deed, but the Maoris who had gathered together for horse racing were not going to be stopped by a trifle like the want of a course. Some ingenious brown individuals pointed out that the stretch of beach would do as a makeshift, and the joyful news that races were to be held was spread abroad. The first race started : There were horses of all sorts—-from the 12hand pony to the 17-hand horse that would have looked more, at houie in a spring cart. There were also a few good ones in the motley lot. They went up under the cliff to start —about twenty-five of them but they were thinned out. Three bolted off and had a race of their own ; several dashed into the sea ; two dashed across a field and were seen no more. Then a viciouS little pony scratched at least three for all engagements with his hind hoofs in making room for himself. One horse started to browse so greedily that his rider could not get his head up, and was left at the post. They started ■—or some of them did. The field swept along in gallant style, some in the water and some out of it. A desperate finish ensued as the tea-tree winning post was neared. The tumultuous mob cheered madly; the struggle was terrific, but blood told ; a dashing “bit o’ blood,” pakeha rider up ; finishing gamely under punishment, just got his nose in front of the hope of the Maoris—a long raking bay, bestridden by a barefooted Maori boy.

“No race !” It was the voice of the Maori judge, who sat still and impassive in all the excitement, sheltered from the rain by a huge umbrella.

There was a furious outburst of wrath from the pakeha rider. “No race be ! This is a bit tough ! Why, I won the race fair enough.” “ They didn’t all start,” said the judge. “ Well, the starter gave the word to go, and we came away. Why, some of them are messing about there yet ; I ain’t to blame for that, am I ?” The judge declined to argue the question. He called up the starter, who had raced along with the field, probably to see that they raced fair, and in a dignified tone demanded an explanation. The starter gave a loquacious account of affairs that apparently satisfied the judge, and he ordered the race to be run again. He also showed his supreme authority by limiting the number of the field. “ Six of them ; no more,” was his brief mandate to the starter.

There were more races, including an event which was dignified with the title of the Orakei Cup, but one Maori horse race is very like another, and the pakeha spectators who had gone out from curiosity began to drift back to the wharf for the ferry boat.